an old writer and his words

  • WHOSE FAULT?

    You lay on the lanai paversin the shadow of the tableunder the watchful eyeand ever prodding pawof the cat into whose territoryyou have so boldly encroached.You say that it is not the faultof your kind that ours were evictedfrom the Garden, and of courseyou are correct, but it no longerreally matters, does it, allof us,…

    Lou Faber

  • SHE

    She is territorial in a modest way. She can sit for hours looking out on the yard and the now dry wetland beyond. The birds come and go and she watches. They do not bother her and she does not bother them. They are part of the landscape, as she now is, she imagines. Even…

    Lou Faber

  • ISLANDS

    I always loved visiting Japan,the Temples of Senso-ji, Todai-jiothers so small their names fadedas I walked away from them,for while I was gaijin, my zenmade them feel less alien.I enjoyed visits to Hawaii,the lushness of the landscape,the old whaling town, nowreduced to ash and ruin,the lava desert of the big island,the volcanoes, live and dormant.Everyone…

    Lou Faber

  • PAUSING

    As the rivers dry upand lakes become pondswe are finding things wenever thought we would see.An old warship in Europe,dinosaur footprints, carsand, sadly, the bones of some.We stop momentarily to marvelat these discoveries, thenwithdraw to our homes where wehope we can escape the heat,our air conditioners working overtime,the power plants strained.Yet we never stop to…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AFTERNOON STROLL

    There are three of themand they walk slowly along the sideof the road, proud yes, but are theyold men who see no need to hurry,or self-assumed royalty who dare not. Nor is it clear if they are the samegroup who gathered outsidethe ornate gateway into PGA Villagetwo weeks ago, perhaps tired ofthe endless greens fees…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FIRST JEW ON MARS

    The first Jew on Mars sifts the red sands through gloved fingers and kicks the small stone, glares up at the heavens the cold sun returning his stare and waits patiently for the rain of manna. looks vacantly across the landscape and curses under his breath at the absence of a good lean pastrami and…

    Lou Faber